


The Chains of Forever

by Oaklin



Series: Forever Everything [49]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: AngstyTeen!Steen, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Papa!Pierre, Swearing, Well - Freeform, can I write Sami any other way?, he does get pretty mopey sometimes, heh, in the typical bby!Steen fashion, not-so-stealthy romance, obligatory Kevin Steen warning, stealth angst, sunshine!Sami, surprise surprise, that rhymes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-30 12:12:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10876548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oaklin/pseuds/Oaklin
Summary: Bound together.Forever.Will they fall without a fight?





	The Chains of Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello!
> 
> So, this week was wild. I am so glad that it is the weekend. I need to decompress, like you would not believe. Not that that has any impact on the series, fear not. The next few parts are already written and mostly ready to go.
> 
> That being said, this is sort of back to the angst. Which is weird, because the next one is super fluffy. I guess it makes sense though, basically everything that I write from Steen's perspective is super moody. For the obvious reasons. On the plus side, Pierre gets to be all Reasonable Authority Figure and Wise Papa Of Many Dumb Children, so he enjoyed that quite a lot. Plus, he basically got to rant at Kevin about all the things that Kevin does that irritates the rest of the cast. Kevin didn't like it much, but Pierre certainly did ^.^
> 
> Hope you like it!

Franky raises an index finger in the air, tilting his head and speaking slowly, with the air of an eternally patient school teacher.

“So, when you jump, pick your feet up enough to get the air you need to propel yourself. You might fuck it up the first few times, and that is fine, hopefully you won’t maim yourselves too badly. Just remember-”

Kevin rolls his eyes, inhaling through the surge of irritation that the scene causes. He rolls his shoulders restlessly, unable to resist the urge to glare up, taking in the stupid look on Sami’s face as the scrawny loser watches Franky animatedly explain whatever bullshit he is rambling about. Phantom is next to Sami, leaning up against the wall and smiling down at Sami with some fucking bizarre combination of admiration and amusement that makes Kevin want to walk over to them **and** -

“You know, you are allowed to participate in the festivities. You do not have to plant yourself like a prickly, unapproachable cactus and sulk in the corner of the room like a pitiable patch of sunlight deprived barren land.”

Kevin pulls his eyes away from watching the way that Sami smiles radiantly at something Franky says. He glances up at Pierre, taking in the way the other man is leisurely relaxing against a large crate of what Kevin assumes is leftover gear. Pierre meets his eyes, seemingly unimpressed with Kevin annoyance. Kevin looks away and leans forward on the bench he sagged down on not ten minutes earlier, bracing his elbows on his knees and finding it difficult to work himself up into raising his eyes again.

“If I wanted to go over there with the three dumb ass musketeers, I would go the fuck over there. I just happen to not want to deal with their stupidity today,” Kevin bites out, snatching a discarded pencil off the floor and spinning it idlely between his fingers, listening to the muted click-clacking it makes as it twirls between his digits.

Kevin wonders belatedly if he should fling it across the room.

He contemplates what Franky would do with a pencil _buried_ in his-

“Obviously. That is why you are bundled over here in the dark, glaring at Sami.”

Kevin does manage to look up then, snapping his head up to shoot Pierre a glare that the other man doesn’t seem to pay any attention to. Kevin squints, sneering at the soft, almost **_affectionate_ ** look on Pierre’s face, following his line of sight to where Franky is now overseeing Phantom and Sami test out some new trickery of some kind or another. Kevin lets out a derisive snort, the way the two morons circle each other, reaching out every once and a while to almost playful swipe at each other, audibly chatting it up with each other and Franky. The sight makes Kevin almost sick.

(fucking _idiots_ )

(that is not how you **fight** )

(that is not how **_anyone_ ** fucking fights)

Honestly, what the **fuck** were they trying to accomplish?

What did they get out of such _gentle combat?_

“It’s not like they are accomplishing anything, whatever the fuck they are doing. It is the most useless exercise in wasting someone’s time I have ever seen,” Kevin says at last, listening to the straining protest of the pencil as he bends it between his fingers.

Kevin doesn’t look up, but he can practically feel Pierre turn to him, that eternally amused expression, peppered with his usual amount of exasperated patience. Kevin bites down on several retorts to just the look that he is getting alone, deciding after a few minutes of weathering the stare that arguing with Pierre when he is in *Wrestling Dad* mode is a waste of his precious time.

“Not _**everything**_ has to be a contest of might, Kevin.”

Kevin rears up, tossing the pencil to the floor with a growl of disgust as he moves backwards in his seat. He reaches over, snatching up his water bottle from the bench beside him and unscrewing the cap with enough force to make the plastic creak in his hands. The room temperature water does nothing to calm his nerves, though it does give him something to do while he scrapes together a retort to Pierre’s inane bullshit.

(not that he needs one)

- _right_ -

(shut up)

“Yeah, it does. It is rather simple Pierre. You’ve been in this business long enough to know how this all works. The one who can kick everybody else's ass get the glory. Period.”

- _bitter_ -

(not)

( **no** )

(it’s just how it _is_ )

(nothing to get all _**emotional** _ about)

- _sure_ -

(fuck you)

“Do **you** want to be the one sparring with Sami?”

The water going down his throat rebels, suddenly and violently. Kevin chokes, clamping his lips together to keep from spitting water all over himself as he silently coughs, squeezing his eyes shut against the burn in the back of his throat. Pierre reaches out, an impassive look on his face as he claps Kevin on the back, his hand firm and the motions just harsh enough to shock Kevin’s struggling lungs into complying with his desire to breath.

Kevin draws in a few gasping breath, placing the water bottle down on the bench and shooting it a brief, betrayed look. Slapping Pierre’s hand away, Kevin clears his throat roughly, wincing at the rawness lingering in his mouth.

“Fuck you,” is the first thing that comes out of his lips when he gets some of his breath back, the words slightly slurred because of his tongue, that seems to be laying dead in his mouth. Kevin makes a face at his own inability to be at least somewhat articulate, although he does regard Pierre as deserving of all the rude insults Kevin can think up.

- _oh god don't just sit there and bitch him out_ -

- _we'll be here all day_ -

(whatever)

“It was merely a question. I don’t know why you are being so melodramatic about it,” Pierre says, with a smug air of half-wit wisdom and that goddamn greater-that-thou look on his fucking face-

Kevin draws in another breath, leaning back on the bench until his spine is pressed up against the concrete wall, the stone cool and inviting, even if it does make it easier for him to observe Sami going down to a well aimed kick from Phantom, and the resulting scuffle that has the two of them rolling around on the mat, giggling like the idiots he knows for a fact that they are.

“You could just ask, you know. I am sure that Sami would acquiesce to any offers from you to get in a ring together,” Pierre say, in a conversational tone that makes Kevin‘s hackles rise, despite his efforts to calm down, under the weight of this goddamn discussion that feels more like a high stakes interrogation for reasons that Kevin can‘t quite seem to find the words to describe.

“I don’t **_want_ ** to fight Sami,” Kevin clarifies deliberately, his voice coming out more of a growl than he intends, all the social grace and stoicism that Pierre seems to posses completely alluding Kevin, much to his supreme irritation.

Also, for some reason the ‘sparring’ session seems to have devolved into some kind of elaborate, poorly executed, unskilled pseudo kick-boxing match between Sami, Phantom and Franky, who at some point jumped the ropes to get Sami into a headlock.

Kevin looks away, eyes seeking out the relative safety of Pierre’s scarred face.

- _safety?_ -

(don’t have to think about it)

- _think about what?_ -

( **it** )

( _don’t_ think about)

- ** _dumbfuck_** -

“I don’t,” Kevin reiterates, feeling the need to restate his feelings on the matter, in the face of Pierre’s silent non-reaction to Kevin’s words.

Pierre glances down at Kevin, tearing his eyes away from the ridiculous display before them, his eyes going from tender amusement at the scene, to staring holes right through Kevin, like Pierre can see every little traitorous though that has ever entered Kevin’s mind.

“You _don’t_ want to fight **Sami**?” Pierre asks, raising an eyebrow at Kevin.

“I don’t. I’ve said it already, are you fucking deaf? I’ve **_never_ ** wanted to fight that-” Kevin breaks off as Sami’s **laugh** echoes through the locker room, the sound bouncing merrily around the bleak concrete prison until Kevin could swear he can feel it _reverberating_ through his very soul.

“Of course you don’t,” Pierre nods, like Kevin not wanting to **_touch_ ** Sami makes _perfect sense_. Like it is the most logical thing that he has ever heard, almost like it is common knowledge, that is as **obvious** as the color of the sky.

Kevin actually opens his mouth, ready to argue, before he realizes that Pierre is _agreeing_ with him.

It still doesn’t feel right, though Kevin cannot fathom why exactly that is, or why the assured look on Pierre’s face makes his stomach curl in unpleasant ways.

(also)

(could the fucker stop watching me like he fucking knows my deepest secrets?)

- _which secrets would those be?_ -

(shut the fuck up)

“Yeah. Exactly. I wouldn’t fight that **resplendent** piece of shit on my worst day. Not even if there was literally no one else to fight. I certainly don’t want to fucking _**play fight**_  with him, like a complete time-wasting moron.”

Pierre nods, his eyes all understanding and his tone all _sage wisdom_ and **worldly knowledge** like the smug **_jackass_ ** he is.

“Of course. That would be a waste of your time. And your time should not be spent with **_Sami_**.”

“Yeah,” Kevin ignore the odd hitch in his voice when he speaks, the affirmation falling out of his mouth clumsily, like he has never spoken clear language before. He clears his throat and tries again, “Yeah, obviously. He’s not-”

Why is it so hard to _speak_ all of a sudden?

“-worth it.”

( _fuck_ )

Pierre cocks his head to the side, watching Sami prance around the ring, having apparently ‘won’ their stupid little contest of idiocy. Kevin glances up but finds it hard to focus on the scene before him when Sami is **_smiling_** -

- ** _fuck_** -

-like **_that_**.

“Some things are not worth it,”Pierre says, an although it sounds like he is agreeing with Kevin, Kevin gets the distinct impression that there is a challenge to his statement buried in those words, even though he can’t work out where the disagreement is exactly.

(still)

“Most things aren’t worth shit,” Kevin clarifies, a bite to his words that he did not exactly intend to be as forceful as it sounds, when the sentence comes out of is mouth. Pierre doesn’t seem fazed, though he does tear his eyes away from the meaningless victory celebration to smile softly at Kevin.

“But destruction is always worth it?”

(well)

( **shit** )

- _you are a dumb bitch_ -

(he started it)

- _he is a dumb bitch too_ -

“Certain things are worth it,” Kevin concedes, glancing up to get an eyeful of that **_brilliant light_** before he heaves a sigh, feeling oddly resigned.

To _what_ precisely, he is not sure.

“ _Certain destruction_ and _**certain**_ -”

(he is more articulate than this)

- _usually_ -

(what the fuck?)

“- _ **certain things**_. But other than _**certain things**_ and _certain violence_ , most of the bullshit I have encountered in my life just isn’t fucking worth the **_hassle_**.”

“They do tend to get mixed up though, don’t they?” Pierre asks, side-eyeing Kevin like he knows something Kevin doesn’t.

- _the fuck does **that** have to do with anything?_ -

“What gets mixed up? What are you talking about?” Kevin asks, siting up and glaring at Pierre, a lightning rod of defensive irritation spiking through him, though he is not sure the cause.

- _your own stupid fucking pride?_ -

“The Violence and the Want. They get mixed up in the mind. Especially when what you Want is also what you Hate. It can be very confusing, and hard to pull apart the exact feelings, confusion which can be exacerbated when the attentions of Certain Things, that you happen to Want and also Crush Between Your Fingers, are not focused solely on _you_.”

(what)

- _huh_ -

- _the old bastard is **smarter** than he **looks**_ -

“I don’t-”

- _well?_ -

(shut _up_ )

- _we're **waiting**_ -

**(...don’t know what to say.)**

- _well_ -

- ** _fuck_** -

Kevin shakes his head, trying to scatter the confused, muddled thoughts pooling in his mind at Pierre’s weirdly compelling words.

Why is he giving such _nonsense_ the time of day?

Who **cares?**

Why is it tripping him up ** _so much?_**

Why can’t he _think_ beyond the **brightest spot** in the room?

**_(shit)_ **

“I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about,” Kevin barks, hauling himself to his feet and snatching his duffel up.

Pierre is completely unfazed as usual, merely raising his head serenely to observe Kevin as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, still thrown off more than he would like to be.

“Of course,” Pierre says, like what he just said wasn’t outlandish and ridiculous and not fucking something someone just blurts right the fuck out in the middle of the locker room without a goddamn care in the world.

- _easy there_ -

“I don’t **_want_ ** or **_need_ **_anything_. _**Certain things**_ are _unimportant_ and ** _not at all_ ** what I-”

(fuck)

“I don’t know what I was thinking. _You_ would never have those sorts of issues,” Pierre intones, and again, though it sounds like an agreement, there is also the disturbing edge of condescension there that warbles away, nattering in the back of Kevin’s mind like and itch that he cannot scratch.

“Well.”

(why is this so...?)

“Glad that we got that straightened out.”

(fuck)

“Also, fuck you.”

- _great insult there tiger_ -

(fuck **off** )

 ** _That skin_** feels like soft, pale sunshine, as he takes a handful of bony arm and twirls the idiot around to face him.

(away from those two buffoons)

- _so subtle_ -

“You want a lift? If not I’m-”

“Yes please! I’ll just go and- yeah. I’ll be right back?”

The enthusiasm in Sami's voice as he practically leaps to his feet, already backing toward his locker and waving halfheartedly at Franky and Phantom, is hard to listen to for some reason. It makes Kevin’s chest ache, and he wonders briefly if he should just tell Sami to-

(goddamn it)

- ** _weak_** -

“Sure. Whatever.”

Sami beams at him and spins around, bustling over to his locker. Kevin stands there, trying not to fidget, and trying not to dwell on the looks that he is getting. He swears, Pierre is watching him with far too much smug satisfaction cast across his face. Glancing away, he catches Franky coughing into a fist, shooting Kevin an amused look that makes his hackles rise.

At least Phantom just looks like he would literally rather be anywhere but **right there** , positioned annoyingly right between Kevin and Sami’s retreating back, a fact that has Kevin glaring down at the other wrestler before he can stop himself.

He needs to _leave_ this room.

 ** _Immediately_**.

“I’ll meet you in the fucking car. Don’t take all night.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well shit. Can Kevin do anything normally? I'd say he is all over the place here, but he is actually being pretty consistent, if you think about it from his perspective. Poor baby just wants to be left alone (no, he doesn't) and brood (he really, really craves the light at this point) but Pierre has to confront him with all the terrible thoughts he has (that are, for the most part, completely fine and normal, besides the more violent ones) instead of just letting him mope in the corner like he wants.
> 
> I'd say Pierre is a jerk, but at this point, after all the shit Kevin has put the rest of the cast through, Kevin totally deserves it. Well, maybe not totally, but this was a long time coming. They still didn't get anywhere, of course, because it is Kevin and he is a stubborn asshole, but hey. Rome wasn't built in a day.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed and have a good week!


End file.
